


The Wrong Shade of Green

by RamblingPug



Category: Free!
Genre: Growing Up, M/M, Questioning one's sexuality, Unresolved Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:45:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamblingPug/pseuds/RamblingPug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic feat. The Tachibana twins growing up, Ran’s first love and discussion of Ren’s sexuality, unresolved angst between the bishies, flashbacks of college, and a (slightly tragic) day at the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrong Shade of Green

**Part 1**

...

They sat together on the sofa, one head of dark olive locks hanging till the middle of her back, and another, a short crop of brown.

“... I don’t understand why you’re watching this movie for,” he feigns a tally on his hands, “the _twentieth_ time.” _Or why I’m being forced to watch this with you,_ he wants to add, but he knows that’s a pointless question. “You practically know all the dialogues by heart!” he exclaims as she recites yet another passionate declaration about marriage along with Jane.

Ran ignores him completely, her eyes glowing dreamily at the wedding set on screen. “What is up with you girls and weddings,” Ren mutters under his breath, having made up his thirteen year old mind against the humdrum of flowers, champagne and black-and-white.

She drags her gaze away from the screen and narrows her eyes at him. “Why are you boys so _against_ weddings?” she asks, accusation dripping from her tone.

What evolves, ultimately, is a staring contest, and Ren, to his credit, _tries,_ he tries his level best to keep up, but his sister could stare _anyone down,_ even the President.

“... Wait,” she gasps, moments later, looking absolutely horrified. “What if Haru-chan hates weddings too?!”

…

“Ran,” he hollers, banging on her door, “How long does one take to get ready?!” Ren stands outside her room door, surf board in hand even though he doesn't know the first thing about surfing, in burger-patterned swim trunks.

“We’re just going to the beach, why is it taking so long,” - the door swings open, and his eyes pop, at a loss for words. “... Right. I guess you are ready.”

She might as well have worn nothing else apart from the grin that tugged at her features. Her hair hung delicately till the small of her back, just a few inches above her hips upon which a patterned purple sarong was tied. Hours and hours of competitive swimming, following in the footsteps of her brother - and his raven-haired friend mostly - had kept her in perfect shape, long, toned legs, and washboard abs the perfect amount of feminine.

She wore a matching bikini top, and a pair of Ralph Lauren shades above her self-assured grin. “... Haru-chan’s coming with us,” she whispers to her twin, when he still looks confused, because he's only seen ever seen her in sports swimwear till now.

It takes a few moments for him to understand what she's actually implying, and when he does, his eyebrows furrow disapprovingly. “... He's _nine_ years older than us,” he points out to her, as if she weren't aware of this fact, as if this wasn't a part of the appeal in the first place. “And besides, he's onii-chan’s best friend. He probably just thinks of you as a little sister.”

Her cheeks stung in embarrassment at Ren’s words. “Then I'll just have to make him think otherwise,” she tells him decidedly, when they've reached the beach and they can see two figures approaching them, one, the broad-shouldered, large hearted figure who's pampered them their whole lives, and the other just a little bit smaller, raven hair that had grown longer than she had pictured over sporadic Skype calls and Facebook images, now held up in a tiny ponytail, and the blue eyes that she had fallen in love with way, way before she could even comprehend the concept of love.

“Someone's become a big girl,” Makoto teases, ruffling her hair, a pinch of brotherly concern at his sister's clothing well-disguised in his affectionate tone. Ran blushes, and looks up at her beloved Haru-chan, and sees him smile back, a free, easy, beautiful thing that he never did much of back when she was a kid, as he hands her a popsicle.

They sit together for a while, and she struggles with her popsicle, unable to keep up with the rate at which the icy confection was melting. Her tongue darts out slyly, licking at the sugar trail running down the side of her palm, first checking to see if anyone's eyes were upon her. Haru’s weren't of course; he only has eyes for the water.

For the first time, Ran felt a twinge of jealousy for the great blue.

...

Makoto is speaking to Ren about high school, the importance of getting good grades and the conflict of being a fifteen year old boy who is slowly starting to identify as gay. Ran watches as her little brother - littler than her by exactly one and a half minutes - stutters about how all his friends have girlfriends but he's never even spared a second glance at them, and decides it’s best to leave the two alone, so she drags Haru into the water for a bit.

“It's wrong,” Ran mumbles, hiding his face between his knees, “I know it's wrong, but I _like_ him, he's more than just a friend,” -

“Ren,” Makoto says, gentle, always soothing, “There's nothing _wrong_ in being gay. There is no right or wrong way to love somebody.”

“That makes sense, but…” Ren hesitates, unconvinced, “I don't know, onii-chan. You've never had a girlfriend, have you?”

Makoto remembers when he was nineteen and fresh into college, when he first realized just how persistent girls could be. He remembers Nanao-chan from the literary club, with the cute smile and the big glasses, who would always exchange book notes with him, up until the point that he told her, as politely as he knew how - it was Makoto, after all - that “Your friendship means a lot to me, Nanao-chan, but I really cannot return your feelings.” He had apologized profusely for good measure, and beaten himself up with his own guilt for “leading a girl on”, but she had refused to even look him in the eye from that day forward. And that, was the sad, pitiable account of experience Makoto had with girls. Which was surely not what his little brother wanted to hear about. “... Not really.”

“Then… Are you, you know… Like me?”

Makoto frowns, unhappy with Ren’s red-faced shame in the whole matter, because he really wants him to understand that the bullies in high school who tease and shame you into going along with their shallow, bigoted beliefs were actually just that… _Bigots._

"I understand being 15 is tough and confusing," he says, watching the waves ebb, "and honestly love never ceases to be." His voice wavers a little here, because he is probably the worst person to be giving advice to his little brother. Ren doesn't know it, he's always thought of Makoto as this older, stable, more mature presence in his life, but he has no clue how torn up Makoto is inside, even now, when he is twenty fucking four, how his heart almost stops at the memory of his first kiss.

Not the awkward one he placed on Nanao-chan's lips, which was technically his first, because she was expecting it and that's the advice everyone gave him, that when you're standing in front of her door, and her eyes are closed, chin turned up unexpectedly, you just had to make the first move.   
But that hadn't felt like a kiss, like want and guilt, and dissatisfaction because how much ever you consumed the other person it just was never enough.

It had nothing on the edgy feeling of a little too much teeth, and the smell of chlorine sharp against your senses.  

It just wasn't _Haru_ , and so it automatically didn't count, because that's the memory that bubbles up in his mind, unbidden, of the day right after his _technical_ first kiss, under the locker room shower.   
Haru had been angry with him, distant with him ever since Makoto had told him what happened the previous night. It didn't make sense to Makoto, and he hated it, hated when Haru drew away from him, and all he could do was wait for him, like the shore waits for the water to ebb and draw in, helplessly, with no power to even call for him.

It hadn't make sense to Makoto when Haru lashed out at him; he had only asked what was wrong. "Really," Haruka had snarled, "After all these years, you still need to ask me what's wrong?"   
Makoto hadn't wanted to ask, he never liked to intrude upon Haru's mental space, and for the most part he just _knew._ But he had been scared of _knowing_ , especially then, and even now, because Haru's eyes were blue licks of flame that had scorched _scars_ in his heart.

He had been afraid of knowing the _wrong_ thing, because he wanted, he wanted so fucking much, and what if Haruka _didn't?_

But when Haru had slipped against the wet tiling, knocking into him, head so close to his, his heartbeat, fast and angry, Makoto could _hear_ it - He just didn't know what happened, really.   
It could have been Haru. Makoto wanted, desperately, to believe it was Haru, who tilted his chin upwards, eyes reflecting the desire he knew too well, but even after all these years, the fear has never left him.

What if - What if, that was just his imagination? God knows, he'd dreamt of it countless times.

He doesn't remember it too clearly, the details were foggy, the sensation had clouded most, just like the glass walls of the shower, where Haru had been pressed up against, his arms clasped around Makoto's neck - this he knew for sure, it wasn't a hallucination - holding onto him, pulling him closer to his lips. And Makoto had resisted, he remembered the thrill that had shot straight to his groin, when he heard him, heard Haru _gasp_ his name.

He had never imagined that the sound of his name could be so erotic.

So Makoto did it again, rubbed against him, against Haru's hardness, biting back groans, because he wanted to hear Haruka _want_ him.

But that was the last time he ever got to heard him, his half-cry, half-sob, that he had delighted so much in, because after they finished, quiet, panting under the hot stream of the shower, they never spoke of it ever again.

It's been five years since that incident, and there hasn't been a day that's gone by where Makoto hasn't thought about it, even though things have changed since then, and Makoto has a job, and Haru doesn't have too much time in between meets and training for the Olympics.

But when he does, he comes home, to Makoto, and that does things to Makoto, little tingles in his heart when he thinks about it like that and he _almost_ asks Haru. He _almost_ brings up that one day which he hasn't yet decided if he should treasure or be ashamed of, and by the time he processes it this far, Makoto's leaning towards the latter, anxiety overwhelming him. I probably forced him, he thinks, the image of him pressing Haru against the wall swimming before his eyes, he probably hated it, and he just wants to forget about it -   
\- "... Onii-chan."   
Makoto blinks, becoming conscious of the pair of soft brown eyes boring into him. “You sort of spaced out there,” Ren comments, amused.

Makoto smiles sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “... What were we talking about again?”

“You were telling me about love.” This jolts Makoto for some reason, because he feels transparent suddenly, wondering if his little brother somehow knew everything, his shame, and that was the reason behind the smirk on his lips. “Ah,” he says, voice suddenly dry, nervous, “what exactly was I saying… about love?”

“You were saying it was confusing…” Ren narrows his eyes, looking at his big brother strangely.  “Is everything okay, onii-chan?”

“Oh no,” Makoto says, quickly, _too quickly_ , the way he always does when something _is, obviously,_ wrong, “everything’s absolutely fine.”

There’s an awkward pause where Makoto’s smiling too hard, too _fake,_ and Ren is just staring at him, in total disbelief, but the moment passes.

“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that it’s okay. It’s okay to be confused and undecided. It’s okay to be unsure if you like boys or girls or if you like both.” Ren is a little embarrassed that Makoto has taken his hand, just like he always used to when he was little. He looks up at him, his cheeks red and indignant, but Makoto isn’t looking at him at all.

“It’s okay if you don’t know whether he likes you too or not,” Makoto’s voice is softer now, as if he were saying it to himself, his words carried only by the breeze. “Anything you feel is okay.”

Makoto thinks Ren doesn’t notice the way his eyes linger on Haruka as he speaks, but he does.

...

Ren’s comment about Haruka thinking of her as a younger sister, stung for a long time. _Show him what you’ve got Ran,_ she pipes mentally, loosening the tie on her Sarong and letting it drop to the floor.

“Haru-chan,” she says, tugging on his hand, “Let's go deeper into the water!”

She's not even half as confident as she's supposed to be, she's never worn anything quite so _bare_ , and she's positively _shivering_ at the idea of Haru seeing her like this, but Haru - she isn't sure if this is a _good_ thing - doesn't look at her any different.

He wades up behind her, when she's looking into the horizon, and whispers in her ear, “ _Boo.”_

She startles and he takes advantage of this, pulling her into the water along with him. There's a hardly a moment and she doesn't see the wave coming but he does, and he's never inclined to get out of the way. She squeals, or rather tries, there's no sound coming out, only water, and all she can do is sputter, helplessly for air, while Haru thumps her lightly on the chest. If this were one of her class boys, she would have given them an earful, but it wasn't, it was Haru and he was laughing at her completely shaken experience, and her heart is shaken too but it's doing little flip flops just watching him, so she laughs along.

Haru looks at the shore, at Makoto, too see if he's watching their shenanigans in the water, and tries to signal to him to join them but Makoto doesn't look up from his conversation with Ren. A wave of disappointment courses through him.

“Let's go further,” Ran urges, pulling Haru, because they were chest deep in water, and he was starting to let go of her hand.

There's light humour in his eyes, as he turns to look back at her. “... I'm not sure you can handle it.”

She starts to protest, but he cuts her off. “Let's go look for seashells. Your brother has a thing for them.”

Rin would argue, if he were here right now, that this was a tendency akin to attention-seeking, that he was little more than a “baby crying out for Mama Makoto” but Haru has long since rejected that theory of Rin’s because it was appalling. He doesn't understand why he's thinking of Rin’s disgusting theories in the first place.

He moves back towards the shore, where the waves had washed up the sea’s newest collection of shells. Makoto has recently been obsessed with finding a conch, and Haru has a vested interest in seeing the way his eyes will light up, like a little green fireworks, cradling the conch in his hands and cooing that he “shouldn't have” when he gives it to him. He rolls his eyes, just picturing it, but it makes him feel decidedly warm inside.

He finds one, comparatively unbroken, but a lot tinier than he expected, and drudges up to Makoto.

“... Is this the shell you wanted?”

“What? Oh. OH. Haru…” Makoto’s eyes soften, just like he hoped it would, and Haru starts to feel a little big-headed, but Makoto smiles, indulgently - Haru knows that smile too well by now, Makoto uses it with everyone, all the kids in his class, when he's not really satisfied, but doesn't want to discourage them - and Haru frowns. “... This isn't it, is it?”

“No, not like that,” Makoto starts to say, but he can see the impatience flit across Haru’s eyes, “Well not exactly, but I love it, Haru, it's beautiful!”

“... Draw it for me.”

“Um. What?”

“Draw it for me,” Haru insists, slightly annoyed that he didn't get it right, “and I'll find it for you.”

“Haru, you don't have to,” - Ren giggles at this point, knowing the way the conversation will turn out - “I don't even think you get those shells around here!”

They're interrupted by a faint scream from the distance. “... Haru-chan! Look…”

They spot Ran, farther in the water than can be considered safe, waving her hands dynamically and trying to tell above the water.

“... Said… Handle it…”

Haru senses more than sees the alarm in Makoto’s eyes. “Ran,” Makoto yells, walking forward a little too fast, gesturing for her to come back, “That's a little too far…”

Ran makes a face but wades back, or tries rather,  but the sea is unwilling to let go of the things it claims. Haru can't help but notice that she makes the same face that Makoto does, when she is scared.

“Haru-chan,” Ren says softly, voice trembling, “look…” And Haru begins to see the need for fear.

The water’s rising behind her, and Makoto’s made his way into the water, and Haru begins to run, yelling for Makoto to stop, that it's dangerous, because he knows how scared Makoto is of the ocean, even though he pretends not to be, but Makoto won't listen, and he reaches his sister, but so does the wave.

…

Ran opens her eyes first.

She coughs, spluttering out the last of water in her lungs, and Ren leans over her. “Ran! You're awake!”

“Don't cry, baka,” she croaks, barely managing the words.

Ren wipes away the moisture in his eyes furiously. “ _You're_ the baka, here,” he says angrily, “What the hell were you thinking?!”

Ran doesn't say anything, she _can't_ , she just focuses on breathing, taking huge gulps of air till it burns her throat.  “Onii-chan, he- he went in, and…,” Ren just sakes his head, not wanting to think about the ordeal that just passed, “Haru- chan had to get you out, you know!”

“... Haru-chan, he… Came to save me…?”

Ren wants to roll his eyes, because she almost _died_ back there, and _this_ is what she's worried about. He wants to hold her and shake her out of her fucked up little daydream, because he's seen so much in the past ten minutes.

He'd seen how Haru had almost tossed Ran to him, once he had made it to shore, and had never taken his eyes off Makoto since. He had watched the small tear slide down Haruka’s cheek, silently, as he did his best to blow air into Makoto.

Ren is pretty sure he knows just who Haru actually rushed in to save, but Ran is fragile and shaken up and really doesn't need the heartbreak right now.

“Yeah,” he says, quietly, stroking his sister’s hand, “... Haru-chan saved you.”

**...TBC**

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re reading, let me know what you think. :)


End file.
